I Hear The Outcast
by Amy Larson
Summary: Where DOES Erik go after he flees the Opera Populaire? Can he forget his love for Christine? Can he be taught to live and love in the world outside Cellar 5? OCxErik, basically just a written version of something I've had in my head a while.
1. His World Was Shattered

Author Comments: Finally I'm doing something not related to Kotor. Yeah, Phantom of the Opera is the awesome.

Disclaimer: Of course, Gaston Leroux's the one who came up with Phantom and all... And Andrew Lloyd Webber and crew made the 2004 version of the movie, based on the play, based on the book. So, about the only thing I own is the concept for what's happening after Erik leaves, and my OC, Anna Devereux. She pops up in the next chapter.

**Also; to the anon cowardly enough to whine at me about how horrible I am behind their silly letters and whatnot... Grow up. I took it down because people were telling me to, not because I couldn't bear the criticism, and I posted it with full knowledge that it was against the rules. Posted it on a spur-of-the-moment. People misconstrued almost everything that I had put in there without giving me a chance to point out what I had meant. Not putting it back up, not gonna delete your pansy comments because you'd probably whine at me about that, too. My 'rant' wasn't even close to emo, since it's not a personal thing for me, it's not emotional, I just think people who favor one over the other so much are ridiculous, especially the crazed fangirls from the 2004 movie who don't know jacksh about any of the characters the way they were supposed to be.** **I hope you flaming morons realize that I don't give a crap what you say about me or my work, at least I'm brave enough to post it, and brave enough to post it under MY name, not anon. Got something to say to me? Register, so I may have a decent debate with you about it. That's all I have to say on the matter.**

**Oh wait, no it's not. I don't use MySpace, thanks.**

* * *

"Pitiful creature of darkness…" Christine Daaé sang softly, each word piercing the Phantom's ears, his heart- "pitiful" she sang, and it stung him. "What kind of life have you known…?"

Raoul's face was awestruck as his lover waded through the murky water of Cellar 5 to the beast. His mouth formed a stunned, disgusted "O".

"God give me courage to show you…" Christine sang, finally reaching him- he had many names… The Phantom, the Angel, murderer, beast, man in the mask, the Red Death… Erik. "You are not alone…"

She tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his, ignoring the half that was chapped and cracked, ignoring the man she loved tied against the grate near her. She put her hands to her Angel's chest, kissing him as well as she knew how- it was her first kiss, as it was his. They broke apart after only a few moments, heat rushing up to color her face. She gazed at Erik, into his eyes, seeing unhidden his desperate, anguished soul, and to her own surprise, she leaned in for another kiss. Raoul's expression contorted to one of jealousy and confusion. Would she leave him for _that_ "man"?

Distantly, echoing off the stone walls of the cellars, a mob could be heard approaching- "Track down this murderer… He must be found!..." They were still fairly far away, but Christine broke away, realizing the danger they were all in. She stepped away from the Phantom, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her dress suddenly felt overly heavy on her petite form.

Erik's face betrayed conflicting emotions, one passing after another- passion, confusion, sadness, bitter anger and resign. He took a few shaky breaths, hearing himself the mob that was approaching.

"Hunt down this animal, who runs to ground… Too long he's prayed on us, but now we know…"

"Take her - forget me - forget all of this ..." Erik found himself saying, splashing through the shallow water of the place he'd called home for the past… how many years it had been, he did not know. "Leave me alone - forget all you've seen ..." Each word was increasingly difficult for him. What was more difficult was getting over what he'd only now realized. For a genius, he thought, he was sadly slow to think of such things.

He was darkness. He was hideous, cold, a living corpse. He was disfigured, he could not go out in public, he could barely go out in daylight at all. He could offer Christine nothing; he could not make her happy. The Vicomte was rich and handsome, a public figure. He was daylight and care, and he could give Christine everything that Erik could not. She could not love him anyway. So it only remained that he should not be found where he went, once they had left.

"Go now - don't let them find you! Take the boat- swear to me, never to tell… The secrets you know of the angel in hell…" His voice cracked, unable to hold under the weight of his despair, and his unwanted self-pity. It only made things harder.

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below_!"

"Go now!" he cried. They had to get out of his sight. He couldn't bear it. "Go now, and leave me!"

Erik spun on his heel and made for the small wooden table in the room he made for Christine. On it sat the music box, with the monkey dressed in fine little Persian robes, miniature cymbals clasped in his small brown paws. Erik didn't look back to see them leaving together, he only wound up the music box and sat with it in his hands upon the edge of the bed. He stared at the mechanical thing, listening to the tiny trills of the notes, which could never in a thousand years approach the level of beauty his Angel's voice could.

"Masquerade," Erik sang quietly. "Paper faces on parade… masquerade… Hide your face so the world will never find you…"

He noted Christine's light footsteps as she drew aside the curtain and entered the room. He looked up, his face contorted into a miserable frown.

"Christine, I love you…" he sang, slowly, meaningfully. He watched as she gave him a strained, piteous look, and then set the wedding ring down on the music box. How many hands had that ring passed through? It was Raoul's ring for Christine. Erik took it from her… and used it as his own. And now she was returning it to him. The blue crystal set in the ring glittered in the candlelight, as though mocking him.

The Phantom was always left behind. He was always the one who watched as everyone else departed, arm-in-arm with the people they loved. He watched Christine's retreating back until she reached Raoul, standing in the boat. He watched him kiss her gently, help her into the boat, but then he looked back down at his music box, the Persian monkey that was his only companion during the dark, lonely years. "Masquerade…" he muttered.

Gradually he set the box down on the table again. He picked up a golden candlestick from the same table, shifting the weight of it in his hands, standing calmly as the mob's voices grew slowly louder. He walked to the first mirror of his lair, pulling the velvet cover from it, staring at his reflection. His own hideousness never ceased to amaze and disgust him. Was God so wrathful? What had he done? What was his sin?

Erik released an angry yell, hurling his weight into a hit with the candlestick. The mirror splintered, silver streaks stretching across the smooth surface like a spider web. He hit it once more, then moved to the next mirror. Throwing all his anger into that candlestick, one-by-one the mirrors broke before him, until the last one, which shattered completely, revealed a dark tunnel, one he had dug as an extra means of escape. He looked down it, into the darkness.

"You alone can make my song take flight…" he sang softly, the image of Christine, her paralyzing beauty, burned into his mind, the memory of her voice, sweeter than any angel's… "It's over now, the music of the night…!" He went on, dropping the candlestick, listening to the metallic "clang" it made as it hit the floor. He stepped over the broken glass at his feet, into the tunnel, not knowing, not caring what lay ahead, without his Angel, back where he started, alone.


	2. Her World Was Empty

Anna Devereux was distraught. She ran her hands down her roughly hewn brown skirts, she balled up her apron and released it, knowing full well she was only adding to the wrinkles on her already dirty clothes. She only had one set. She tugged on a strand of hair loose from her tight braid. "Ooh," she muttered. "What am I to do?"

It was bad enough that she was hiding in a dank little alley, so men passing on the street wouldn't see her. They might call "thief" like everyone else did in her last city of residence. It was only food. And only a little. She couldn't see why everyone got so worked up about it. Who was going to miss a handful of cornmeal, a dry loaf of bread every week? _They would have tossed it out anyway_, she thought contemptuously.

Then, they might also try something. Not every man could afford a courtesan. Fear quickened her pulse as she leaned back against the cold stone walls of whatever building she was beside.

So, she had stolen a wedge of cheese for a late… dinner. And she had been caught. Only a crotchety old woman, but surely she would tell whatever family was living with her. Anna did not believe in witch curses. She was eighteen already and surely old enough to have grown out of such things. She was hiding just in case, and she thought she would sleep in the alley she'd found until things had boiled down the next night. After all, no one called in a squadron and searched the whole city for days just because of a missing wedge of cheese. Which was moldy anyway. She dropped it while running away.

To add to her problems, Anna was new to the city. She had hidden away on a trade ship to get here, and then wandered a very long way, and she didn't really know where "here" was, although she thought vaguely that it might be Paris. She would have been more awestruck by the huge buildings if she weren't too busy fretting about the fact that she was hopelessly lost between them.

Finally, Anna resolved to ask the first person she saw alone where she was and where she could find… Well, she didn't have money to pay for a place to stay, or even for food. All she had in the world was the clothes on her back. Her family's home, modest though relatively nice, had burned down. Her parents perished in the flames, and her brother's body was scarred, his leg broken by a fallen beam of wood. He took his life a month after the disaster. She had no other family, and no one recognized her. And thus, she became lower than the rats. Rats at least had some sense of direction.

Anna peeked out around the corner of the alley, noticed in the distance flickering red-orange lights. Was there a fire in the city? Unwanted memories of the flames and the choking smoke came flooding back, and she caught her breath. She was only eight when it happened. Why was she unscarred? Why had she survived when her family had not?

She shook her head and pushed away the thoughts, coming out from the alley and standing on her tip-toes to look. Indeed, a building had flames licking out the windows- a pretty building too, an opera house from the looks of it. She craned her neck, watching the fire, wondering what she would do next when she heard quick footsteps on the cobblestone. Anna immediately whipped around to see a man, almost as roughly clothed as she, and all she had time to notice before he ran into her. Clearly he was as startled as she at the presence of another human being.

Anna took a moment to look at him as he stared in horror at her. The right half of his face was pink and bulging, his eye sunken in and lighter colored than the other. His lip was pulled with it, and no hair grew where what seemed to be a scar spread with lumps of disfigured flesh. She was not afraid, for that was what her brother resembled before he died, but she could see his mutation was not from flames, nor indeed anything but a misfortunate birth. Immediately she pitied him, for the other half of his face was handsome, and his eyes were full of every pain and sorrow of the world.

The man backed away from her, lifting a hand to cover his face. Anna smiled at him and took a small curtsey. "Monsieur, good evening. I was wondering if… you…" The strange man still was backing away from her, disbelief painted on his would-be handsome features. She noted that he was trembling slightly, and he appeared about to bolt from her. "Am I scary?" she asked warily. "I must ask you not to run, I need your help, monsieur, if you please."

"Help?" the man echoed, and hearing one word, Anna sighed. His voice was so… hypnotic. Low, melodious, she could only imagine how… How could she let herself be so distracted? She needed to get to … somewhere, anywhere safe to stay for a while.

"Yes, help," Anna repeated. "My name is Anna Devereux, and I… Need to find a place to rest for the night. I haven't any money, though…"

"I… I can't…" The man swayed slightly, took in a sharp breath, steadied himself. "The Opera Populaire, it's…"

"Is that the place burning?" Anna took a closer look at the man, taking a single step towards him. "Are you alright monsieur? You look… very pale."

"You're not afraid…" he muttered, almost, she thought, as though it were the strangest thing in the world.

"I'm not afraid of very much monsieur."

"Erik Claudin," the Phantom muttered, lowering his hand. Anna took in that he was only in black boots and breeches, with a white dress shirt, loosened due to swift activity. What activity, she could only wonder.

"Monsieur Claudin." She curtsied again, feeling very odd performing such formalities in the rags she had taken from someone before having to sell her only gown to afford food.

"Mademoiselle Devereux, I'm afraid…"

"No!" Anna cried, folding her arms over her chest, attempting intimidation, knowing her voice had cracked and she probably looked as though she were about to burst into tears. She was. "Please, monsieur, I have nowhere else to turn. Please, I beg you. I could stay where you are headed. I do not make noise. I could cook and clean if you like. I could earn my keep. Please monsieur, I can't live on the streets the way…" Anna swallowed, let down her hands, steadying her breathing. She noticed that Erik was staring at her strangely. Everything about him was strange, really, but that the pot calling the kettle black. Street urchins did not curtsy. That much she knew.

"But that's the trouble," Erik said. He felt odd without his face being covered. He felt odd that this girl was talking to him. He did not hear screams. He was not hiding. And she was not running. "I don't know quite where I'm going." His voice dipped sadly as he said this. He had always planned ahead. He was a genius; he should know what to do. But this was not his lair, his opera house. He didn't have his trap doors or secret strings or hidden passageways.

"We can find where to go together." Anna caught herself and gaped at her boldness. This man was probably some sort of noble, judging by the fineness of the material his breeches were made of. How dare she ask, as a ragged beggar girl on the street, for him to accompany her? Had her parents known she had done such a thing, her father would have slapped her. Surely... Surely he would be offended, he would leave, and she would have to find another man to ask where to go. This one seemed rather lost, anyway.

"Why would you want to do that?" Erik asked, tilting his head slightly. "I'm hideous."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Anna replied quietly, turning her face down, ashamed of herself.

Erik was quiet for what seemed a long time, too long a time. He had officials, theater folk, a mob after him with torches and garrotes. She had an angry old woman and her family, and possibly the police, searching for the dirt-crusted beggar. Surely neither had time to spare. Eventually, Erik spoke. "Then… we might seek lodgings together." Erik watched her eyes light up with hope. "I have… some francs left," he said, though in truth he had quite a bit left. He would have to be careful how he spent it, now that he did not have managers.

"That's… that's great! You're serious! Do you know where we could go?" she asked.

"We must leave the city immediately."

"Oh..." Anna groaned loudly, massaging her forehead, not even caring at this point whether it was rude or not. _More_ traveling and hiding out. She _was _thankful that a nobleman was taking her up, paying for her shelter, but she couldn't move around anymore before she collapsed from exhaustion.

"I can arrange for a carriage," Erik said, still looking at her. After moments' consideration, he added "You may sleep on the ride, if you like."

The Phantom was wary of the girl. No one he'd witnessed in his life, that being many, many people, saw him without terror in their eyes, looked at him without contempt or disgust, except Christine, and even she, sometimes. He could see nothing in the girl's eyes but desperation and hunger and lack of sleep. Maybe she was lying, and she was part of the mob sent to kill him. Maybe she wasn't, and plotted to kill him simply because he was a dirty mark on the face of the pristine Earth. Maybe she would simply leave without a word, which would probably work out best for all sides. In any case, he reached the miserable place he was in then by isolation. Even death would be welcome at this point… and if that was not what awaited him, then he could at least try to live happily.

The Opera Populaire, Christine, and his art had been his life. He wrote, he drew, he taught Christine, he laid plans and built models… all of that was gone now, left behind in his need to flee.

He thought not of this "Anna Devereux" as a young girl, nor what it would look like were they to travel together. He thought only that whatever was to become of that travel would be better than living or dying alone. Anything would be better than that wretched, pointless existence.

Anna followed the man silently, mechanically, simply her body carrying her along until the point where she could simply lay down and sink into sleep for a week, sweet sleep. Maybe food, real food, not just scraps and handfuls of meal. She did not question him as they entered a stable and he led out two black geldings, as he took a cloak from the tack room and donned it, as he hooked the horses' bridles to one of the carriages outside. At this hour of night they were not being watched, and though she was sure they were tethered somehow, the man seemed to have broken those bonds. It didn't matter.

Erik swung up the driver's seat and told her to get in, and she obeyed readily. Her stiff, plain dress was less than comfortable to lie in, and the seat was hard as well, but none of that mattered either. Only that there was a promise of shelter and food with a sad nobleman who had been played a rotten hand by fate. She knew she should be more cautious, seeing as just falling asleep in the carriage with a man she did not know, nobleman or not, at the head, was probably the stupidest thing she could do. It was also quite the opposite of what she'd been trying to do before.

She did not know what it was about this man. Perhaps it was the normal half of his face. Perhaps the boundless pain she saw in his eyes. Perhaps the way his voice slipped under her heart, enveloped it, and made it soar, more than any of the singers she'd seen in the operas before the fire could. She did not know why she trusted him, but she did. Anna heard the reins cracking and the horses' hooves clacking on the cobblestone. The carriage jerked into motion, rolling a little bumpily along the road.

She read a lot when she was a child. Education for women was not so common a thing, but her father taught her anyway, thinking one day it would come in handy for her. Her favorite tales were those of the Greeks, where heroes in capes and sandals, with swords and shields, traveled great distances and battled great monsters, often for love's sake. She knew that each and every person, too, had a story, some interesting, some not. She wished she knew what brought such pain upon the man in the driver's seat. Her brother's disfigurement caused him great pain as well, but never could she see it so deeply in him as she could in every tone and gesture of this man, Erik.

As Anna Devereux's eyes reached the weight of stone, as she slipped into the sweet embrace of sleep, lying in the back of the carriage, she swore to herself that she would hear Erik's story before they parted company.


	3. His Heart Was Cold

Anna awoke unhappily after rolling off her seat-bed and hitting the floor of the carriage, which had jerked to a stop moments before. She blinks and knuckled her eyes, looking around. She could see through the carriage window that it was night. _Oh, dear,_ she thought, _did I sleep a whole day_? Had they even been traveling a whole day? How long does it take to get out of Paris?

"Mademoiselle Devereux," Erik called. He sounded as tired as she felt before, but she couldn't drive the cab for him, she didn't know how. "We are outside Paris and I have found an inn," he continued.

"Oh," she replied, standing up shakily and brushing herself off. "That's wonderful!" Anna made to open the door of the carriage, but Erik opened it for her just before she could reach. He held out a hand- gloved now, as it hadn't been the night before- and she took it, allowing him to help her down. She smiled gratefully at him and looked over to the inn.

It was a nice place, for being at the edge of the country. It looked as though the rooms would be spacious and comfortable. She watched Erik, her hands clasped together, as he unhooked the horses and led them away to the stable beside the inn.

Now she wasn't nearly as tired, and her limbs felt light. She glanced down at herself, her ugly brown dress and dirty hands. She was even barefoot. She thought she'd definitely enjoy a nice bath, but she wasn't sure if this inn had them.

Erik came back and nodded curtly to her, which she took to mean she should follow him. He had a mask over his face now, too. Everything about this man seemed stranger and stranger to her, but she went after him anyway. Maybe the man at the inn would mistake her for a servant. That would be for the better.

They went in, Erik holding the door open for her, which removed her hope of being mistaken as a servant. The innkeeper stood at the bar, speaking with two men who were probably a little drunk. There was a fireplace blazing in one corner, two long tables, and a few lamps glowing softly along the wall. A door at the back she assumed led to the rooms.

The innkeeper heard them come in and turned his head. "Evening, monsieur, little miss. I take it you're here for a room?"

Erik inclined his head and drew a few francs from the pocket of his breeches, putting them in the outstretched hand of the innkeeper. "Two rooms, please," he said. "For one night. Keep the extra."

"Thank you." The innkeeper, a surprisingly tall, thin man in plain garments went around the counter and to the door Anna thought went to the rooms. Erik followed him as he opened the door and they went ahead, and she started and ran after them. "Here," the innkeeper said, pointing to a door, one of many along the hallway, "is your room, little miss. And here," he pointed to another, "is yours. We don't ask questions here. Enjoy your stay and don't cause trouble. You can come into the main room for food or spirits any time."

Before Anna thought if he thought the mask was strange he wouldn't say, but she watched the way he squinted at Erik before leaving the hallway. Her patron didn't notice, simply withdrawing into his room, which was dark.

"Wait, Monsieur Claudin," she said. He paused, but he did not turn around. "Don't you want supper?"

"No," he replied. "If you would like some, here." He turned around and handed her a few francs, then shut his door, silencing her would-be protest.

_Surely,_she thought, mildly annoyed, _if we _have _been traveling for a whole day, he'd be hungry. I wonder why he's so reclusive. Of course, the innkeeper looked a little less than friendly… why would he? It's not like his face is his fault. He hid it anyway._

Anna went into her own room, just to check if it had a tub. She couldn't even remember the last time she had cleaned herself. It didn't, but had wooden bowl of water and a rag, so she set about washing.

She wriggled out of her dress and wetted the rag, scrubbing at her arms, which had bits of dirt and mud and dust crusted to it. She imagined her face wasn't any better. She scrubbed her left arm until it was pink, and clean, and then went to her right, and then her feet (which almost blackened the rag), and then her face. When she was done she felt considerably better, although a little bit tender from the scrubbing. Unfortunately she would have to remain in her old clothing, because it was cold outside and even if it weren't, she couldn't quite wash them naked.

Anna redressed and went out to the main room, sitting at one of the long tables. There were only the two mildly drunk men at the bar and a couple sitting at the other table. The innkeeper went up to her, his hands set on his hips. She merely smiled up at him.

"It's an odd man you're traveling with, little lass. You ought to be careful," he said.

"I know, monsieur. Thank you. May I have some supper? I can pay."

"Tonight it's stew."

"What kind of stew?"

The innkeeper shot her a look. "Just stew. CLAUDIA!" He yelled at the door that didn't lead to the rooms.

"I'm coming!" a woman's voice came out muffled from behind it. Soon after the source of the voice came out holding a steaming bowl of "stew", which she set in front of Anna. She was a big woman, with a friendlier face than the innkeeper's. "Enjoy it, honey," she said, smiling, then went back to what Anna presumed was the kitchen.

"Mmf," the innkeeper grunted. Anna paid him, and he went back to stand behind his bar. She turned to her bowl, which was steaming up into her face with a tantalizing scent. The sight was less so, being a thick brown something with bits of other things floating in it, but it _was_ the first hot meal that she would have in quite a while. She gratefully began spooning it into her mouth, and when she realized how good it tasted, practically inhaling it. All of the stew was gone within a minute.

After that she realized that it had scalded her tongue, which was now numb and throbbing, but she didn't care. Her belly felt full and she was finally clean, and even though she'd been used to better in her younger years, she already felt like a queen.

Anna felt like taking a walk, even though it was late. Since she'd slept in the carriage she had a crick in her neck and her legs were still stiff. She got up and left out the front door, figuring the cook woman would take care of her bowl.

The night was crisp and cold. A thin white layer of snow covered the ground, but the sky was clear, a brilliant shade of royal blue. Anna shivered through her thin sleeves, and her feet hurt from the snow, but she walked on anyway. There was a thin forest across the road, and crop fields on the side of the inn. The road turned to the side of the forest and disappeared 100 meters up, and she could see very faintly the lights of the city down the other part of it.

Anna sighed, savoring the feeling of the cold air in her lungs. She was immensely grateful to the mysterious Erik for taking her in the way he was, and she was sure if he had any ill intentions they would have been executed by now. She wished she could do something in return for him, but she had nothing at all. She could only tell him her stories (something she quite liked to do), and perhaps work for him, as she said, cooking or cleaning, but she feared it would not be enough. What if he turned her out again? She wasn't sure she could bear living on the streets any more, not knowing when she would next have anything to eat, not knowing if some day an official would recognize her and arrest her.

Anna found herself plotting out what the poor man's story was. He was a nobleman's son, maybe. Betrothed early to a pretty young girl. She fancied the girl looked like her, except more beautiful. Anna would not kid herself- she knew she was plain looking, brown hair as straight as straw, a spattering of freckles. Her eyes she liked, as they were a brilliant green color, but her body was nothing special either. Monsieur Claudin's betrothed would be thin, with a little waist and delicate features.

But maybe because of his face she would not like him. She would rebel against her family for having her marry him and run away. Erik would try to follow her, thinking himself in love with her, but she would spit at his feet and tell him horrible things. She would maybe sail off to America, where they do not make you marry. She would find a new life there.

Monsieur Claudin would be miserable. His parents would think he frightened her away intentionally. Her parents would accuse him of making her leave. His family would turn him out- maybe that was why he was on the streets, so sad.

_Mais __non_, Anna chided herself. _What a silly story. He is older than marrying age. It would have happened too long ago for him to be on the streets still in nobleman's clothes._

She didn't know how much time had passed since she came out side, and she didn't even notice the cold anymore, but she feared she would get sick, so she scurried back inside. The warmer floorboards burned on her half-frozen feet, so she went immediately to her room and sat on her bed, feet under the covers. Rubbing her arms and legs for warmth, Anna wondered how Erik was doing, and whether he had eaten. She debated whether or not to go and check on him, half-fearing it would seem too forward of her. In the end she did get up.

The hallway was dark and empty, and she heard quietly the voices of the other people at the inn. She knocked warily once, twice on the door, then opened it, peeking inside. Monsieur Claudin's room was pitch black, not a single light on, and the curtains were drawn. She saw a dark shape move where his bed would be, and once her eyes adjusted, she made out vaguely the outline of his face.

"Go, girl," she heard him say. "Leave me alone."

"But Monsieur. You haven't even eaten yet. I could at least get for you-"

"No!"

Anna squinted, and she saw that his shoulders were shaking. "Monsieur," she began, "are you… crying?"

"No… I told you to leave!"

"But you are!" Anna was immediately by his bedside, surprised she had not tripped, and reaching out to touch his shoulder. He shrank away from her, and as he did, she saw his eyes glitter cat-like golden in the darkness. "Monsieur, what troubles you?" Her hand found his shoulder and rested lightly on it. He was trembling.

"N-nothing… Nothing…"

Anna frowned. "I beg your pardon, but obviously it's something, or you wouldn't be so upset." She paused. "Is it about your face? I had a brother who was disfigured by a fire. He killed himself, but it can't be so bad as he made it out to be…" Anna stopped talking, and mentally slapped herself. _What am I doing?! _she thought. _I'm probably only making it worse!_

Erik tilted his head up to look at the girl. Her expression was one of pity, concern, and annoyance. Anger flared up in his chest, and he jerked his shoulder away from her hand. "Save youruseless _pity,_" he spat. "It has never done me good before."

"It's not that!" Anna protested, drawing her hand back. "It's just… I don't know. It's not pity. Empathy, maybe." She looked down at her hand in the darkness, and she wondered. His shoulder had felt cool, cold even. Had he been outside? "I want to know what's wrong."

"You're a liar," Erik said. "No one cares for the Phantom…" He reached up to touch his mask as though it were an alien presence on his face. "No one would listen…"

_The Phantom?_ "I'm listening," Anna persisted. "I'll listen if you tell me. Trust me. Please."

Erik suddenly ripped the mask from his face, turning to her with a glare that, if looks could kill, Anna would already be a shriveled corpse. "Who could care for a face like this?!" he shouted, gesturing sharply to his deformity. "No one! Not even her!"

"It doesn't matter to me! My brother was as bad off and I still loved him. Your face doesn't matter!" Anna thought she was probably just enraging him. He would probably throw her out just for this. Her impudence stunned her, but she just kept on. "The outside doesn't count," she muttered, holding his gaze and conveying every bit of compassion she had in her with it. She reached out and touched his shoulder again. It still felt cold.

Erik stood up then, and Anna let her hand fall back to her side. He strode around the bed and over to the window, drawing back the curtains. He stood there silently for several minutes, which felt like quick seconds to Anna. She was entranced by the sight of him, his dark silhouette against the blue-white of the snow-kissed night landscape. She just stared at his back, until his voice started her out of her trance. "I told you to go, Mademoiselle Devereux." He sounded much calmer this time, though still upset.

Anna shook her head, although she knew he couldn't see. "Beg pardon Monsieur, but I'll get you to tell me what's wrong, eventually." She turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her, and collapsed on her bed with a great sigh. _What a difficult man,_ she thought. _Oh, I hope he doesn't throw me out now…_

She had already slept so much, but she found she was still tired when she lay down. The bed was so much more comfortable than the carriage seat, and after she pulled up the covers around her she could already feel herself drifting off to sleep. The image of his profile against the window was stuck in her mind long into the night, and his handsome masked face haunted her dreams.

"No one would listen…" Erik sang quietly to himself. No one heard, no one was awake to hear, but him. The darkness of his room, the curtain closed again, enveloped him completely, such as it had all his life. "No one but her heard as the outcast hears…"

The Phantom looked up, eyes flashing golden in the dark. His gaze swept the room, the bare wooden walls, the untouched wooden bowl of water, the board-and-nails desk in the corner. The spot on the floor where a short time ago, Anna Devereux stood.

"Shamed into solitude…" he continued. Images of people flashed through his mind. "Shunned by the multitude…" The people of the audience in _Don Juan Triumphant_, gazing wide-eyed up at him, a player on the stage, merely a person, not a monster. "I learned to listen… In my dark, my heart heard music…"

Erik looked at his hands. They were regular hands. Large, a little rough. A writer's callous on his right. Plain, human hands.

"I longed to teach the world… Rise up and reach the world," Erik sang, still quiet. His own voice sounded almost ugly in his ears. He was too used to it. It and it alone. "No one would listen; I alone could hear the music."

His first manager, eyes wide in horror, for the voice seemingly coming out of the walls. The horrid man that kept him in a cage, that stepped on his Persian monkey doll. He was only a boy, then…

"Then at last, a voice in the gloom seemed to cry 'I hear you'!" Christine, wide-eyed, sweet, innocent, so beautiful. "'I hear your fears, your torment and your tears!' She saw my loneliness, shared in my emptiness… No one would listen, no one but her…"

Anna Devereux. A pretty girl under the grime. Smiling. Lying to his face. He saw- he _thought _he saw- the disgust hidden beneath the surface...

"Heard as the outcast hears…"

Erik looked up again. He closed his eyes, felt the warm wetness of a tear burning a path straight down his normal cheek. Another one a troubled journey down his… _mutation._ Several more followed. He tilted his head up to face the ceiling, letting the tears flow.

"No one would listen… No one but her heard as the outcast hears…"

* * *

Author's Comments: Additional disclaimer here, No One Would Listen is all property of Andrew Lloyd Webber and those guys that worked with him.

Why does the Phantom just have to be so darn adorable?


	4. Her Heart Was Open

That morning Anna felt even more lighthearted than before, despite what had happened last night. She was completely rested up and nearly springing with energy out of bed. She hoped Monsieur Claudin had slept as well, although she doubted it. She'd seen, it seemed, only a glimpse of the pain he'd suffered. She was now more determined than ever to find out what had happened to him.

Still, other things were on her mind that morning, like what was for breakfast. Anna combed her hair roughly with her fingers and tied it tightly back into two braids this time. She had taught herself to do this to keep her hair from getting too dirty. She smoothed down her dress and then stepped out her door, looking warily at Erik's across the thin hall from hers.

She knocked once, twice, reminding her of the night before, making her frown. She heard muffled noises, a thump on the floor, and then footsteps. The door opened inward and Erik looked wearily at her. His mask was not on, and he had dark circles under his good eye.

"_Bon __matin_!" Anna said cheerfully, banishing her frown instantly. "Will you be eating breakfast with me today?" Her hands were clasped politely in front of her.

"You're never going to give up, are you?" Erik muttered, fixing her with a glare. His door closed again, and Anna slumped disappointedly. She waited for a few moments, leaned up against the wall. She stood and paced, she waited in front of the door again. She was about to head to the dining room on her own when the door finally re-opened. Erik was there fully dressed, including his mask, clutching a few francs in his hand.

"Excellent!" Anna chirped, giving him a wide smile. She opened the door to the main room and let him come through, then followed and sat next to the spot he chose on the corner of the table, across from him. His gaze was fixed on the table, and he was silent. The francs were next to her hand, so she supposed he wanted her to order for them. "Monsieur!" she called to the innkeeper. He came over, took the francs from her, and again yelled "CLAUDIA!" in the direction of the kitchen.

Soon the large woman from the night before came out carrying one bowl, and she set it in front of Anna. It appeared to be a bowl of porridge, but she couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, the quality of the food the night before, despite all appearances, had banished all of her doubts about Claudia's culinary skills.

"Need one for your friend?" Claudia asked, gesturing to Erik. Anna nodded and Claudia disappeared into the kitchen, moments later bringing out another steaming bowl and putting it in front of Erik. "Dear, you're so skinny," she cooed at him. "Try and eat it all." She looked over to Anna, who was already spooning the porridge into her mouth, pointedly ignoring the glare Erik had given the sweet cook lady. "You look nice," she said, smiling, then retreated back into the kitchen.

"She didn't even notice your mask, I think," Anna told Erik. He only glanced up at her, and then went back to staring at the table. She sighed, letting her spoon sink into the hot porridge. "Erik, you haven't eaten a thing since almost two days ago –" Anna gasped. She had called him by his first name. She tried to continue without making a deal of it. "A-and… you'll starve if you don't eat… _something,_" she finished lamely, suddenly finding her porridge very interesting to look at.

To her surprise she heard the faint clatter of his spoon, and she looked up to see him taking a small bite. His good eye widened a little, and he took another. The corners of Anna's mouth turned up and she watched him eat another few.

"See?" she said. "It's not so bad." She continued eating her own.

Erik was wondering how long it had been since he'd eaten a good, hot meal. Too long, he thought. He had been missing out on this kind of thing for so long. And this was only a poor inn's porridge, delightfully creamy and delicious though it was. What other delicacies could the world offer his tastebuds? He hadn't even noticed that she'd called him by first name, but that could be because he'd never been beaten into the iron guidelines of society. It was nothing to him.

Anna, while eating, could not help but glance over at the innkeeper. She went unnoticed by him, though, because he was staring intently at Erik, and the expression on his face was not altogether friendly. She noticed also that his hand was twitching a little as he cleaned the bar top. She thought Erik noticed it too.

When they had finished eating, both bowls empty and clean, Erik seemed a little braver. "It's completely improper that you should go about without shoes," he said. "And we each seem only to have a single set of clothing."

"I'm alright in these for the time being," Anna protested mildly.

"No, I've made up my mind," Erik said. "You can get them for yourself, I trust you're capable." He laid a rather large sum of francs down on the table, which Anna took a moment to gawk at. "I can procure my own. I'll find you. I'll let you know where we're going from there."

"Monsieur Claudin, I cannot accept these." She tried to push them back across the table towards him, but he stopped her hand with his. It was still gloved, and it felt cool on hers. She felt her face heat up and butterflies danced in her chest, but she shook away the feeling after he took his hand away. She had never been touched by anyone outside of her family before. It was a little strange.

"Take them, Mademoiselle, I have enough," he assured her. "And now, you should go outside. I have something I must do. I shant be long. Wait in the carriage."

Anna looked at him a moment, wondering what he had to do, but she obeyed quickly, sliding off the bench and heading out the front door. The snow on the ground had melted, although the dirt was still freezing cold against her bare feet. The sky was still brilliantly clear, and the sun cast pale morning sunshine upon the road. It looked a little muddy, and she wondered how easy travel could be in such conditions.

She figured while she was "waiting" she could be useful, so she went over to the stable and led out the horses. She could not do a lot of things, since she hadn't been formally taught most of her life, but she _was _good with animals. Now she noticed one of the geldings had a white star on its forehead, and the other a strip, as well as fetlocks. She gave them names in her head: Fantôme and Lumineux. Lumineux nuzzled her hand as she led them over and she smiled at him, marveling at how soft and warm a horse's muzzle always was- like velvet.

Anna busied herself feeding them bits and adjusting their bridles, then hooking them to the carriage, fastening everything as efficiently as she could. Erik emerged from the inn just as she had finished, carrying a very grim expression. "Hey," she said. "I've already set them up."

"Thank you."

"I've named them too, if you care to know. Fantôme and Lumineux."

Erik stopped mid-stride, looked at her, shook himself and continued on, hoisting himself up to the driver's seat. Anna stared at him as he went, unconsciously tilting her head to the side. _This man is unbearably strange,_ she thought, to her own embarrassment. _I should be thankful! _She chided herself for the second time that week._ I probably owe him my life. How could I be so selfish?_

"Get in," Erik said from his seat. She complied immediately, entering again into that uncomfortable carriage. Since she was not going to sleep this time she didn't know what she could do to entertain herself.

The carriage jerked into motion and Anna started forward, still not used to riding in one. She bumped up and down in her seat with it, keeping her busy for the first 10 minutes as she tried to learn to settle herself and move more easily with it. She was right about the road, being a little muddy, but they got past the muddy part fairly soon and their speed picked up.

"The next city is only a few miles away," Erik told her from the front. "We should be there in only 30 minutes."

"Alright," Anna said, groaning inwardly. 30 minutes with nothing to do. Or perhaps not, she thought, looking out the windows. They had already passed the curve around the forest, and a new landscape was revealed to her. There were longer crop fields here, and irrigation channels, and on the other side, what appeared to be a lake, surrounded by stretches of tall grass. Very far ahead she could just make out a forest, and perhaps the outline of a small city after that.

Watching the landscape fly by filled her with joy, with little reason other than it was her first carriage ride in… well, almost 10 years. Traveling so quickly, with such comparative luxury, it was wonderful to her after so long of living without. She merely stared out the windows of the carriage for the remaining 30 minutes with nothing in her head but _my, how beautiful France is…_

_"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy;__  
no dreams within her heart but dreams of love."_

"But Monsieur Claudin, how on _Earth_ are you going to find me? There's a whole big city I could be in!" Anna moaned. Erik was ridiculously stubborn about his ability to find her in a strange place. She could be fairly sure neither of them had been here before and she _could _be anywhere when the time came. He was nuts!

"It is not so large as Paris. I will find you, trust me. And now, Mademoiselle Devereux, I must take my leave."

"But Monsieur! Ugh!" Erik was already off, confidently striding off and turning a corner and going wherever it was he needed to go. "Okay," Anna sighed. "I'm alone in a strange city- my patron has left for places unknown, claiming he'll find me later- and I have a _very _large sum of money he demanded I spend on clothing." She paused and looked about, hoping no one was nearby. It was bad enough that she looked like a beggar but had enough money to buy out a store, but if she was seen talking to herself people might cry witch or something.

She was standing by the city stable, that much she could tell, if only by the strong smell of horses. The street seemed to be otherwise composed of houses that shared walls and had flat roofs. Here the cobblestone was burning her feet with the cold, although she was getting rather used to that feeling. She hopped from foot to foot for a moment, then walked briskly off down the street, glancing side to side for _any _kind of shop, so she could get directions. She had to notice how the buildings seemed to hang over the street, and cast a shadow upon it. That could also, however, be the fault of the huge stone mansion to the east. It creeped her out a little, like it was watching her and following her as she walked the streets.

The first several streets she went down seemed to be purely residential. Several people were walking down them and one or two cast her dirty looks. She took it in stride and pretended not to notice, keeping on until she finally came to a commercial street. Most of the homes here were on the second floor, the first being shops.

The tailor was one of the first shops Anna saw. She headed immediately for that, thankful she had found it so easily. A little bell jangled by the door as she opened it and a girl about her age came to the counter. She took one look at Anna and said "I'm sorry, we don't house beggars."

"Oh, I'm not a beggar," Anna said, smiling widely. "I can pay. I need some new clothes." She swept her hand afront her pathetic excuse for a dress. "As you can see."

The girl squinted at her, folding her hands on the counter. "You have francs?"

Anna nodded. "I said I could pay." She walked up to the counter and placed half the francs Erik gave her on it. The girl's eyes widened significantly. "How much will this buy me?"

"At least… at least five grand outfits…"

"I don't want grand. Just durable. And nice looking. Oh, and some breeches, if you will, with a loose shirt."

The girl looked at her disbelievingly. "The breeches and shirt are to be fitted for you?"

"Well, yes. I need something easy to run in."

"Oh. Well, okay. As long as you can pay." The girl grabbed up Anna's francs as though they would disappear had she left them there any longer. "This is about 10 plainer outfits, including the breeches and shirt. Shall we fit you today?"

"Yes, please."

"My name is Isabel," she said. She opened a drawer, shoved the francs in, and shut it with a dull "thud", then turned around and headed for the door in the wall behind her, gesturing back to Anna. "Come back here."

"Um, alright." Anna followed Isabel in, and she noticed she was shaking a little. It was completely odd to her to be buying her own things, to be acting as though she were an independent lady. She was at this point, she supposed, since Erik seemed so willing to shovel out francs. She didn't know how any of this was supposed to go.

The back room looked like a windstorm had hit it. There was a wooden box in the middle of the floor and a stairwell on the right side, and the walls were lined board-to-board with racks of fabric and boxes of sewing tools, with the exception of one big, ornate mirror. The colors were baffling and bright, ranging from blood red to the softest blue she had ever seen, just looking at it made Anna feel as though she were falling into the sky.

Isabel snapped her out of her trance. "Mademoiselle," she said. "We should choose fabrics. The plainer ones are over here." She gestured to a long rack of fabrics in a few less soft-and-bright colors. They were still rather pretty, though.

"The breeches should just be brown," Anna said. Isabel produced a notepad from nowhere and began writing down what she was saying, which puzzled Anna, since she had thought so few women knew how to read or write. She'd liked being one of the few, even if no one knew it. "The shirt, white, something thick and not likely to tear."

Anna surveyed the fabrics before her and immediately picked out a few of the ones she liked better. "This one," she said, pointing to a dark green brocade fabric, "will be the bodice of one dress. This one can be the skirt." A dark blue cotton. "This one will be the undershirt. This one's the bodice of another…" Anna felt power and happiness surge within her and swell in her chest. She felt a little bad for spending Erik's money so easily, but it was just so nice to be out spending on her own. She doubted many women had an opportunity like hers.

As she listed off the fabrics she wanted and which part she wanted them for, Anna could not keep the smile from her face, and it was still there when she finally left the shop noting in her head to return three weeks later for her outfits. Would they even be in this town for that long? Perhaps Erik wanted her to buy already-made dresses. She decided she would ask him when he "found her" so she could cancel the order early on.

Isabel had given her a map after taking her measurements, and the girl's opinion of Anna seemed significantly bolstered by the end of the visit. Since Anna had only spent half of her francs she wondered what she could do next. She supposed she ought to save a few, so she took half of what she had then and shoved it in her apron pocket. But that still left quite a bit.

_Oh yes, shoes!_ she thought. _I don't know how I could forget. _The shoe shop was right next to the tailor, so she went right in, wriggling her bare feet on the floor and looking around blissfully at the shoes lining the shelves.

Again, she was greeted rather poorly, but again, she took it gracefully, and when she offered her francs the shopkeeper immediately warmed up to her. He helped her look at a few shoes and try them on, but she decided on some plain brown court-shoe styled ones. They were comfortable and seemed like they would last her a while.

Once she was back on the street in them her feet no longer hurt and she felt as though she could run anywhere. The day was turning out to be rather fantastic. This was what it was like to be wealthy.

_I wonder__ if Erik likes __chocolates?_Anna mused._ I know I do. Perhaps I could buy a few. _She glanced over the map, located the store she was by, and then the nearest chocolate shop. It was on the next street over, so she ran. People gave her even more dirty looks, but still, she didn't care and she didn't pay them any attention. Anna sprinted up the street, her new shoes clacking delightfully, around the bend and down the next street to the chocolate shop. When she stopped in front of it her chest was heaving and her face was colored from exhilaration. Rarely did she run so much or so quickly. It was _fun._

The chocolate shop, too, had a little bell. She smiled up at it when she went in. This time she got an immediately warm greeting.

"Hello!" the girl at the counter said. She was very pretty, Anna saw, just what she wanted to look like, and even what she thought Erik's betrothed would look like. Hair as deep brown and wavy as the chocolate she sold, and eyes to match. Skinny waist, pale skin, full lips. "My name is Cecile. Are you here to look? To buy for yourself, or for someone else?" Her smile was brilliant.

"This is the first kind greeting I've had today," Anna said conversationally. Her shoulders relaxed for the friendly atmosphere. She sidled up to the counter, surveying the delicacies displayed on silver trays upon it. "Everything looks _wonderful,_" she said.

Cecile giggled, and it sounded as light and airy as the bell on the door. "I made it," she said. "So, thank you."

"Certainly."

There were all manner of sweets on display- white chocolate, turtles, cherry crèmes and bonbons. They were arranged carefully on every tray to show off each ones' color and design and contrast it to the one beside.

"I can't choose," Anna said, exasperated. "Do you just have an assorted box?"

"Of course," Cecile said. She picked a dark brown square box from the shelf behind her and set it on the counter. "It's twelve franks, _s'il__vous__ plait._" She then leaned over the counter and whispered conspirationally to Anna, like what she was about to say was a national secret. "Could you come in sometimes just to talk? Girls my age never do, and the only boys are usually already infatuated with someone else."

Anna blinked, surprised. "Well, alright, if you'd like me to." She would have said then that she had to go, but she didn't know how or when Monsieur Claudin was going to find her. Nonetheless, she wanted to see what else there was to see in the city, and get herself used to the layout of it. Cecile was sad to see her go already but Anna promised to visit her soon. She took up the box on the counter and left, giggling at the tiny bell like she and it had some kind of inside joke.

Although she planned to still go about for a while longer, she heard someone call "Mademoiselle Devereux," behind her, and when she turned, Erik was there. He was considerably more dressed up now, in a heavy black cloak over a white dress shirt and vest. Was he already finished with his business? She hadn't thought she took that long, but she didn't know how much time passed in the tailor's. She glanced up to check the sun, but the buildings blocked her view of it, so she looked back to Erik.

"So, you found me." She managed to laugh a little, although she was more stunned than anything else. "How did you do that?" Anna hadn't seen him there when she was inside the chocolate shop, and he seemed to appear from thin air once she left it. It sent a chill up her spine.

"I have my ways," Erik said quietly. "Regardless, I've found a place for us to stay."

"Oh? Where?"

He gestured upwards, towards the huge mansion Anna had noticed earlier. She gasped.

"We're not really staying _there, _are we? Is it…"

Erik quieted her with a finger to his lips. "The owner is… away."

"Oh," Anna said. "So, we're… 'borrowing' it." She had done that before. She had no qualms with it, although she thought Erik probably had enough to buy the whole place.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. We should go. Now. Come along." Erik turned quickly, his cloak billowing out behind him. Anna thought how often she followed people into places these days.

Erik led her through a rather roundabout way to the mansion, curiously without a map or any means of telling direction, through various unpaved alleyways and back roads. She could only guess why he wanted to be so secretive before they got anywhere near the mansion. The route, however, turned out to be faster than she thought it would be. They came to the forest that went around and to the back of the mansion rather quickly, and trekked quickly through it for a while until they came around the back. Just as Anna's legs were beginning to ache, Erik showed her to a hole in the stone wall that ran around the length of the estate, which was completely unattended for a very long time, judging by how overgrown it was. Erik had probably hacked a way through it recently, it being clear, and he let her through before following her in.

There was a long stairwell that came up to the still grand, but less so than the front, entrance. Anna wondered if she would have to come through this way every time she wanted to go to the town. It would get quite bothersome after a while. Erik opened the door for her, and they went together into the mansion.

The first hall they entered into was ridiculously high-ceilinged and it looked like it ran through to the front entrance. It was carpeted by a long, scarlet rug fringed by gold, and there were several large bookcases along the wall, as well as a whole lot of doorways. The walls were a golden-brown color with a certain sheen to them. Obviously the whole place was obscenely expensive. Anna rethought Monsieur Claudin's ability to buy it.

"So, should I just find my own room…?" Anna asked him. They were traveling together, but that by no means meant that they had to know where the other was at every moment. And, by the display in town that day, Anna no longer thought Erik would have any trouble finding her should he want to.

He looked over at her like he'd never been asked such a thing before, but he quickly regained his composure and nodded briefly. "Every facility of this place is open for your use," he told her, "and any room is yours to enter and use, except for mine."

"Understood, Monsieur."

"Good. Make yourself comfortable. We'll likely be here for a while."

"Three weeks?" Anna asked hopefully.

"Probably."

"And may I come and go as I please?"

Erik paused at this, seeming to consider for a few moments, before nodding. "Just be sure to use the back way."

Anna's spirits fell a little, her having to trek through the forest every day being exactly what she'd feared, but she smiled anyway, supposing she should be thankful that they had a mansion to stay in at all.

"Any other questions?" Erik asked her, tilting his head. She replied in the negative, so he turned and started off down the hall, leaving it through one of the doors, curiously as though he already knew the place.

Anna sighed and entered the second door on her left, which turned out to be a rather large study, and a door on the corner was marked with a gold plate that read "Library". Excitedly, Anna ran across the room, ignoring the fine calligraphy tools and other items a study might have, and burst into the library, gasping at what she saw.

If this room did not take up half the space of the mansion she did not know what else would fill it, for the ceiling was higher even than the hallway's, and was painted to look like the night sky, dark navy blue glittering with stars, and complete with a glowing crescent moon. Up to that ceiling there were towering bookcases stuffed to the brim with, of course, books, but also various trinkets, like a model sailboat on one and what seemed to be a letter in a glass case on another. There were books scattered on tables and open on chairs and sheaves of paper littering the floor. Decorated elaborately with scarlet couches, chairs, dark mahogany tables with oil lamps, gold borders and pillows and linings with a breathtaking combination of rich colors, this was quite possibly the grandest place Anna had seen in her entire life. It would not surprise her if it contained the history of the entire world and everything in it.

She wanted desperately to stay in that room for the rest of the day and merely explore every corner of it, but she knew she had to stake out a bedroom before evening. There were sure to be many in a place this huge.

So, Anna reluctantly left the library, swearing she would return to it at the soonest convenient moment, and the next door she went in (the third on the left) seemed to be a guest wing. The first room had a table and comfortable-looking cushioned seats, presumably for congregating.

The rooms leading off of it led to bathrooms and bedrooms, the latter of which she chose the one to the far right. Each bedroom had a color theme, and the one she picked was green. Dark green walls, a cream-colored canopy over forest-green bedsheets with a chestnut frame, and a green cloth over the table. Anna wondered if this place would have a bathtub. Most likely it would.

Next she wondered how Erik expected her to keep out of his rooms if she didn't know where they were, but somehow she felt she'd discover that soon enough. Her feet were itching to run through the halls, and that was just what she left her room to do. What would her excuse be for bursting in on him?

_Well,_ Anna thought, _there's always the chocolates_

* * *

Author Comments: I'm predicting a bit of a writer's block for a while seeing as this chapter was about five-thousand words, and I have the LEAP test to work for... Can't be staying up to 1 in the morning every day typing this stuff, can I? Sorry guys!


End file.
